


Eight plus Eight plus Eight

by creepypaola



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: A bit melancholic maybe, Can you believe i wrote something where no one dies, It’s just my favorite poem and a couple of loving wizards, M/M, Maybe a little angst, No proofreading we die like i medici, but only if you really look for it, im gonna keep spelling it Essik, its too late now, it’s just tender moments, sorry Matt, this literally has no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepypaola/pseuds/creepypaola
Summary: Morning. Afternoon. Night.





	Eight plus Eight plus Eight

**Author's Note:**

> Shakespeare - Sonnet XVIII.

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_  
_Thou art more lovely and more temperate._  
_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_  
_And summer's lease hath all too short a date._

 

It’s morning and the sun is high. Two bodies lay on the bed, messy sheets barely covering their tangled limbs. Their gestures are slow and lazy, as if molasses was washing over them in a thick layer. Copper and white hair sprawled on the pillows, strands intertwined like the sun and the moon spreading their rays in the sky, trying to reach the other. Blue irises staring into golden ones, soft smiles shared like precious and delicate secrets.

Caleb strokes his thumb on Essik cheek and gently brushes his lips on his forehead. They don’t say a word because it’s morning and the sun is high and there’s no need to. Because they have the whole day for that, they have their whole lives, however short or long they may be. Because the day has just started and there are no worries, no plans or responsibilities, not for today. It’s just them, the clothes forgotten on the floor and the wind outside, shaking the branches and scattering cherry blossoms in the air.

Essik takes Caleb’s hand and leaves a soft kiss on his palm. His slender fingers rest on the man’s knuckles, and the skin is rough there and marked by small and pale scars but oh, there’s so much power flowing underneath. He traces his way up Caleb’s arm, until he reaches his neck and then his temple. He moves a couple of strands away from his eyes and runs a hand through his hair.

“They are so long now, you should cut them.”

Caleb hums softly and the corners of his lips quirk up.

“I know. I will.”

He moves his hand too and scratches Essik short buzz along the side of his head.

“They are so short now, you should let them grow.”

Essik rolls his eyes but there a smile on his mouth.

“I know. I will.”

They don’t speak again after that because their hearts know.

 

 _Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_  
_And often is his gold complexion dimmed,_  
_And every fair from fair sometime declines,_  
_By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;_

 

It’s late afternoon and the sun is low. They are still there, surrounded by orange and reddish light, empty tea cups abandoned on the bedside table. Essik is laying against Caleb, his head resting on his shoulder while the man carelessly runs a hand through his hair.

“What will you do, when I’m gone?”

Essik drops his attention from the book he is reading and turns his neck up to look at Caleb, but the other man is staring ahead, his eyes focused on something outside the window.

“Why do you think you’ll be the first to leave?”

There’s no resentment in his words, a question asked with the understanding that the other’s assumption is a fair one. They don’t dance around these topics, they never did, both clever enough to know that existence, as many other things, is ephemeral and brief, especially for one of them. And yet, they have lived through so many experiences that they also know that life is never set in stone either.

Caleb stays silent and Essik raises his hand to cup the man’s chin and gently coerces his face down until Caleb is finally staring back to him. His features are relaxed, not a trace of melancholy on is face and Essik’s heart aches a little. Life may rarely follow a predictable path, but sometimes some details are already written.

“Live. For me.” The other says.

“I will.” He whispers back, and smiles before turning back to his book.

They don’t speak again after that because their hearts know.

 

 _But thy eternal summer shall not fade,_  
_Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;_  
_Nor shall Death brag thou wandr’st in his shade,_  
_When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:_

 

It’s night and there is no sun. The sky is dark but the moon is white and the stars are shining bright. They haven’t moved, and there is no reason to do it now. The air is chilly but their bodies are warm, always touching, skin pressed on skin. Essik is resting his cheek on Caleb’s chest, his fingers faintly drawing circles on his stomach.

“Will they ever write about us?”

Caleb says nothing but Essik knows the man heard him and is thinking.

“Maybe. Do you want them to?” Caleb hands starts caressing the drow’s naked back.

Essik quietly hums, “What would be more selfish, to say yes or to say no?” He stops and props himself up on his elbows until their faces are at the same level. “Time is not often kind, and memories fade.”

“And yet, ink drips and legends and myths survive.” Caleb cups Essik jaw and brings him closer, foreheads barely touching. “I’m sure history will remember.”

Their lips meet and it’s a tender kiss, charged with promises and reassurances. It’s an oath, it’s thousands of word unspoken but understood nonetheless.

They don’t speak again after that because their hearts know.

 

_So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
So long lives this and this gives life to thee._

**Author's Note:**

> I literally have two other wips about these two that i should be working on and the other tmn fic i should really, really finish but i remembered about my favorite poem and i wanted to write something soft. These two will literally be the death of me.
> 
> Dont ask me about the title, i had no idea what to use, but 8x3=24 and thats how many hours there are in a day so it kind of works. I dont know honestly.
> 
> Written in a rush and with no editing as usual so if i fucked up something let me know!
> 
> I’m also on twitter and tumblr, same @
> 
> *edit* i just realized this thing is 888 words long...... mmmm pleasing


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